


Anemones in the Ice

by StarlitSnow



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Friends to Lovers, Happy Ending, Hints of Bang Chan/Yang Jeongin, Hints of Seo Changbin/Kim Seungmin, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Hwang Hyunjin/Lee Felix, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Beta Read, Soulmates, Swearing, why is tagging so hard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 05:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29397246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlitSnow/pseuds/StarlitSnow
Summary: He wasn’t even cold; he was just empty. He had the vague sensation that time was running out, but for what he neither knew nor cared. The only thing keeping him from succumbing was a tiny grain of sunshine, buried so deep in his heart that he sometimes wondered if he’d imagined it. Occasionally he wished he had, thinking bitterly that it would be so easy to give up if it wasn’t there, but nevertheless it echoed faintly in his pulse, warming his soul even as his veins filled with ice.orThe Snow Queen, but make it Minsung
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 6
Kudos: 24
Collections: MINSUNG FICATHON: Round One; 2020





	Anemones in the Ice

**Author's Note:**

> `Written for [MINSUNG FICATHON](http://twitter.com/minsungficathon), for PROMPT **A077**`
> 
> This is my first ever fic and I had so much fun writing this, so I hope the prompter likes it too.

Golden dawn sunshine filtered its way through the window and played across his face, gradually pulling him towards consciousness. Jisung grumbled, burrowing deeper into the blankets and let the sound of sleigh bells and the occasional car wash over him as the city began to wake. He knew he would have to get up soon and start preparing for classes, but for now he was content to bask in the calm of the morning. He heard a soft sound behind him and snuggled towards the source of warmth at his back, before Minho pressed a sleepy kiss to his hair, humming in contentment.

A loud noise startled Jisung, and he groaned as the over-excited barking of two dog-sled teams greeting each other split the air, before finally blinking his eyes open. He frowned, confused, as the golden light become more dull and grey with every blink and he felt the warmth leech from his body. He reached across the bed, searching for Minho but felt only the cold and lonely expanse of sheets, before spluttering on the cat’s tail that whacked him in the face. He came awake fully and his heart seized when he remembered that he was alone. That Minho had left him.

🎇

The silver fox ran across the tundra, paws certain on the on the uneven terrain, as he tried desperately to get as far away as possible. It was only by chance that he had stumbled across the trolls as they used their mirror on some dryads, howling with satisfaction as the peace-loving creatures had turned on each other; and he was lucky they hadn’t noticed him before they had decided to move on to taunting the angels. He briefly wondered if there was a collective noun for trolls before the faint shattering sound reminded him that there were significantly more important things to worry about. He pushed himself ever faster, ears twitching in agitation, as he searched for somewhere to shelter. The trolls had broken the mirror, which was inevitable really, when they had tried to take it so high just to shock the heavens.

He ran until he couldn’t hear the trolls anymore and then continued on even further, before he finally allowed himself to flop to the ground in his exhaustion and buried his muzzle in his paws, tail wrapped around himself like a blanket. The wind had picked up and he watched idly as tiny silver snowflakes were blown past, before the blue of the sky caught his attention. A sinking feeling overtook him as he realised that the silver particles weren’t snowflakes, they were tiny pieces of mirror dust, and he somehow knew that each piece would carry some of the cursed magic of the mirror. And when the snow came and brought with it the Queen the shards of mirror would only make her more cruel. He had been watching her lure people in for as long as he could remember and they had little chance of escape. They would surely have no hope now, not if those afflicted by the mirror couldn’t even recall what goodness or beauty or joy were. With any luck (and they would need lots) the smallest pieces would only contain much weaker dark magic. Tiredness engulfed him as he thought of her countless victims and the broken hearts each of them had left behind, wondering how they would be able to help them now.

🎇

Fresh snow had fallen overnight and Minho was desperate to play in it, a feeling only intensified when he saw another boy already out there disturbing the pristine blanket that now lay on the street outside his house.

“Can I go outside and play?” Minho turned pleading eyes on his mother, who hesitated, looking out of the window at the boy.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Minho, I’m sorry.”

Minho quickly turned to appeal to his father instead. “Dad, can I please go outside? Please?”

He watched his parents share a concerned glance that his ten year-old self couldn’t decipher, although when he thinks back on this moment, as he does often, because it’s the first time he meets Jisung, he knows why they thought they had to be so protective. An intense non-verbal conversation happened between them and to his surprise his mother relented, so he threw himself out of the door before she could change her mind, with her instructions for him to be back by dinner completely disregarded in his wake.

“Hi, I’m Minho,” he said as soon as he got close enough to be heard. The other boy turned at his arrival and immediately lit up with a smile.

“I’m Jisung. Do you want to build a snowman? I’ve never built a snowman before.”

They worked together happily until the snowman was fully formed, if a little lopsided.

“He needs a face,” pronounced Jisung, sounding very serious.

Minho hummed in agreement and began searching for stones and twigs that they could use for the snowman’s face and arms. Something shiny caught his eye, and he called Jisung, “this is cool!” They both bent down to take a closer look, and Minho reached out a hand but was stopped when a blur of silver fur landed on his chest knocking him backwards.

“No! Do not! You cannot look into the mirror; it will destroy you.” Minho and Jisung gaped in surprise.

“I – uh, I. What?” Minho managed to splutter, while Jisung continued to stare with round eyes.

“You cannot look into the mirror, it will destroy you,” he repeated, sounding rather annoyed.

“You’re a fox. You – you’re a fox.” Jisung had finally found his voice again. The fox flicked his tail and stepped off Minho’s chest, fixing Jisung with a narrow-eyed glare.

“How observant.”

“But foxes never talk to humans,” said Minho, feeling a need to defend his new friend.

The fox now regarded Minho thoughtfully. “I suppose we don’t, do we. But here I am.” He turned back to the discarded object that had caught their eye, and set his tail over it, aware of the way it continued to glint enticingly in the light. “This piece of mirror – for that is what this is – is a small fragment of a dark and unpleasant magic and is far older than you or even me. You must try to avoid it if you can, but there are pieces scattered far across the world, and some are as small as the first flakes of snow.” He paused and twitched his nose. “You will not be able to see or feel true happiness anymore, should you look into a shard or find yourself with a piece of mirror dust in your eye or lungs. I have seen it before.”

The two boys looked at each other, confused both by the story and the fact that it was a fox telling them.

“Okay, uh, Mr Fox. We’ll be careful.” Minho was truthfully quite sceptical and also a little cold and just wanted to finish building the snowman with Jisung. The fox huffed and somehow managed to roll his eyes in what seemed to be a mix of exasperation and condensation.

“Very well human, and,” he paused again, “very well children.” He stood and sauntered off, silver fur blending in with the glistening white snow, now much less pristine than it had been when Minho had first looked out the window, before finally vanishing from sight.

Minho looked to Jisung and found him staring at the spot where the fox had been sitting and from where the mirror piece had now disappeared.

“Let’s finish the snowman.”

They did, and as they continued to build snowmen and have countless snowball fights throughout the winter, and as their friendship only became warmer even as the snow melted and Jisung showed Minho around his new school (both boys unreasonably upset they couldn’t share classes because of their age difference), they forgot about the mysterious fox.

🎇

“Minho!” The sound of a one-person stampede pulled Minho from his physics homework, which he had honestly been staring at blankly for an embarrassingly long time, just in time for him to watch Jisung fling his bedroom door open with enough force that he almost brained himself with the rebound.

“Shit, Jisung, you could have just texted,” he said, trying hard not to laugh.

“I did,” Jisung whined, as he flung himself onto Minho’s bed. “You didn’t reply and I’m bored.”

“Oh well, in that case I guess we have to do something fun immediately. How did you get in anyway?” Minho stretched and snagged a sweater from the back of his chair, moving towards the door.

“Your dad let me in,” said Jisung. “Wait, where are we going – I literally just got here.”

“Didn’t ask though.”

“Yeah, because you were working so hard before I got here.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “There’re supposed to be shooting stars tonight. We could go to the clearing?”

“Only if we can get snacks.”

They had driven a short way out of their small town, stopping by the convenience store at Jisung’s insistence, as they had done many times since Minho had passed his driving test the year before.

Minho now lay on a blanket next to Jisung staring up at the sky intently, waiting for it to get dark enough to see the stars. That was one good thing about living in a small town he supposed: no light pollution. It was quiet too, only the sounds of nearby birds and the munching of snacks disturbed the peace, neither Minho nor Jisung feeling the need to break the peaceful atmosphere. What was ruining Minho’s peaceful contemplation of his peppero was Jisung’s incessant fidgeting, which was truthfully becoming a bit annoying, so he thwacked an arm down onto his chest to pin him in place before raising an eyebrow in a silent question.

He was surprised when Jisung brought his hand up to thread their fingers together (not from the action itself because they’d always been quite touchy with each other) but because he looked unexpectedly serious for someone who claimed to be bored and in need of snacks not an hour before.  
Minho stayed quiet not wanting to push him to talk before he was ready – he knew Jisung needed to organise his thoughts first.

“Do you ever think about the future?” He kept his eyes resolutely on the sky, refusing to look at Minho. “Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. And I’m scared. Scared I’m going to be trapped in this tiny town forever, like my parents. I just- I want more, you know?”

“I- Yeah, I think I do,” Minho sighed, feeling tired and oddly spooked. “I have to apply for university next year, and I know what I want to do, but actually doing it seems so overwhelming.” Now it was Minho who stared at the sky, refusing to acknowledge the weight of Jisung’s eyes on him. “You know how I dance? That’s what I want. I want to dance. And maybe choreograph. I love it, I’m good at it. I think I could be really good at it if I had the chance. But it’s such a big risk.”

“Why? You are good at it – really good – already, so why is it a risk? Who told you that?” Jisung sounded so indignant that Minho couldn’t help but smile.

“No one. Well, not, like, outright. But.”

“But what?”

“It’s just, it’s like I have to choose between doing something I love and being stable. Between working really hard to be successful and being bored.”

“That’s – why is this even a question for you? No – let me finish – Minho – you’re an idiot. Ow! Listen to me. You literally just answered your own question. You’re going to work really hard at something you love and you’re going to be successful because it’s like a self-fulfilling circle. Don’t throw away a chance at happiness because of some dumb stuffy people who think a career in the arts is worthless or whatever.”

Minho blinked at him for a few moments, “Okay… I guess when you put it like, it’s kind of a simple choice.”

“Good. You’re going to apply to a big university that has an amazing dance programme and also a really good music programme because I’ve just realised that I know what I want from my future and I’m not scared of it now. And then we can study together and be cool adults.”

“You will never be a cool adult. You are literally the most embarrassing human I know,” Minho laughed, but it was tinged with fondness.

“Hey! You take that back. I’m never writing a song for you to dance to now.”

Minho rubbed circles onto the back of Jisung’s hand with his thumb as he stared at the pinpricks of light visible in the now velvet blue sky, suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of gratitude and affection for his best friend. “Thank you Jisung. I’m sorry – I kind of hijacked your existential crisis with my own, but thank you.”

“That’s okay and I basically solved both though, so I’d say it worked out,” said Jisung, sounding ever so slightly smug.

“You are absolutely insufferable,” Minho rolled his eyes, “Oh, look – shooting star! Quick, make a wish!” He tracked the star across the sky, thinking about a successful dance career and everything his future could be, until it faded from view leaving only the memory of the white trail seared into his eyelids.

“What did you wish for Minho?” Jisung’s voice pulled him from his reverie.

“If I tell you it won’t come true, you know that,” he replied ignoring Jisung’s whining and jabbing him in the side with his elbow. Jisung retaliated and before long they were engaged in a full-on wrestling match, and as their shrieks of laughter split the still night air around them, Minho couldn’t help but think the future would only be truly happy if he was with his best friend.

🎇

Almost a full year had passed and Minho once again found himself back at their favourite stargazing spot, although this time the letter he had with him felt like it would burn a hole in his pocket while he waited for Jisung to finish ranting about whatever tedious piece of literature homework he’d been forced to redo. Eventually he ran out of steam and turned to Minho with a serious expression before asking what was bothering him. Minho was almost surprised, but they had been friends for so long and were so close that he supposed he shouldn’t be.

“I’ve been accepted,” he blurted, holding the letter out to Jisung, “to the university I wanted.” He watched as a genuine heart-shaped smile spread across Jisung’s face and his eyes narrowed to crescent moons in happiness. He wasn’t even sure why he had been so nervous, he had been certain Jisung would be happy for him, even his parents were supportive; but if he was forced to explain he knew it was because he was afraid of the inevitable changes that would soon happen. Even these stargazing hangouts would be impossible.

Once Jisung had finished yelling about his excitement and support they lapsed into a comfortable silence which lasted until Minho was horrified to realise he could hear quiet sniffling coming from the boy next to him.

“Oh my god, Jisung, what’s wrong?” he said, throwing an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. Jisung pressed his face into Minho’s hoody, “I really am happy for you, I promise.”

“But?” Minho prompted softly, gently tracing patterns onto Jisung’s back.

“It’s stupid,” he replied in a small voice, almost lost to the fabric of the sweater. “I’ve completely ruined the mood, haven’t I?”

“Jisung, if it’s upsetting you it isn’t stupid. You can tell me anything.”

His hands briefly tightened in Minho’s sweater before he took a deep breath and relaxed them. “I guess I just realised that everything is really and truly going to change now. We won’t be able to see each other because your university is so far away, and you’re going to make new friends and be really busy and you’ll only be able to come home for the holidays, and what if- what if you forget about me?” he trailed off, “Sorry.”

Minho’s heart clenched. He’d be lying if he said his happiness wasn’t tinged blue at the thought of leaving Jisung behind, but he knew he needed to comfort him.

“Jisung. That’s just not going to happen.” He wiped the tears off the other boy’s face with his sweater paws. “We’ve been friends for, like, ten years and I could never forget about you. You mean so much to me. Yeah, we won’t be able to hang out every day, but we can still video call and text and I _will_ come home for the holidays, and you _will_ get into the same school as me, so really it’s only for two years. I’m not leaving you behind. I would never. I promise.”

Jisung finally looked up and Minho was relieved to see he seemed at least a little reassured by his unusually impassioned speech.

And if, in the months that followed, they clung a little tighter to each other, and somehow managed to find even more time to spend together, if, when the day of Minho’s departure finally arrived, both boys cried after saying goodbye, well, no one else needed to know.

🎇

Jisung felt completely hollowed out, like there was an empty space where his heart used to be. It had only been a few weeks since he came back to an empty apartment and a note from Minho which had stopped his world on its axis, but he couldn’t stop thinking about it and he was almost getting annoyed with his brain for not letting it go. He can be fine by himself, damnit. He is a whole person, he doesn’t need Minho in order to be happy. But that’s not true, is it, he thought to himself. They had been in a relationship for almost four years now, but they had been almost inseparable for close to fifteen. It would surely be natural to feel lost without that person. That’s not the whole truth either, though. He sighed. He doesn’t want to be okay by himself, he wants to be happy with Minho. He thought Minho wanted that too.

After this revelation that hardly qualified as such it was so obvious, he zoned out and resumed staring blankly in the direction of the kitchen sink. He didn’t know how long he had been staring – he supposed the grey light was perhaps a little brighter – when he was roused by an insistent paw nudging at his arm. Startled, he refocussed his eyes and found all three of their cats regarding him. They almost looked angry, but that couldn’t be right, could it? Either way it was disconcerting. Soonie had something in his mouth and padded forward to drop it in front of Jisung pointedly. Jisung was exceptionally confused, because he was sure these aren’t magical cats, Minho would have mentioned if they were.

Soonie meowed and Jisung looked at what he had been given. It was just a crumpled sheet of paper, now damp in places with cat drool. Oh, no, it was _the_ sheet of paper, the one that ruined everything, the one that haunted his nightmares and his every waking moment. He leaned down, fingers trembling slightly, and picked it up, shakily smoothing it out. Reluctantly, but unable to stop himself, he started reading.

_Jisung_

_I’m leaving. I don’t want this anymore, I’m not happy. Don’t look for me._

_Minho_

This was the first time he had read the note since he came back from visiting their hometown alone for the winter holiday, Minho unable to join him because of work, and it was somehow more painful to read than just obsessively imagining it like he did in the dark of the night. After everything he couldn’t believe Minho would do this to him. Letting him come home to a cold and dark apartment, everything exactly where it always was except for Minho himself, it was that which seemed particularly cruel, especially given how excited they always were to see each other after any length of time apart.

A cat – maybe Doongie – yowled, breaking the heavy silence which had fallen over the apartment. Jisung looked at him, “I’m sorry kitty, but he’s gone. He left us.” Another yowl. “He promised he wouldn’t. He promised, _promised_ me,” his voice cracked. Now all three cats were yowling and Jisung would have laughed if he wasn’t so desperately unhappy; three cats and a grown man all crying in a dimly-lit apartment. Ridiculous.

“He promised me he would never leave me, so why, why,” he paused “wait, he promised me, and he wouldn’t, he would not leave me,” his voice tinged with a faint hope he was almost afraid to let himself feel. The cats stopped their horrible shrieking, and he looked at them. “Do you think that maybe -” he could hardly articulate the thought his throat was so tight with longing. “He was acting a bit weird before I left. Even before we argued.” He winced as he recalled yelling something hurtful about how Minho cared more about his job than his relationship. “Ever since that client, or, no, ever since the big snowstorm…”

After Minho left he had cried a veritable river of tears, he had moped and mourned, but he had just accepted it. Now he was going to do something. Minho might have said not to look for him, but that’s exactly what he was going to do. He had the faintest of hopes now and he wasn’t going to give up.

Filled with a new sense of resolve he snatched his phone, sending a quick text to Changbin to tell him he would be coming over and that it was urgent. He got a reply almost immediately and felt guilty; Changbin especially was probably one of Minho’s closest friends, he had to have been suffering too but Jisung had ignored everyone in his misery. He stood and hastily grabbed a coat and his keys before turning at the door. He could feel three sets of eyes on him and he met all three gazes in turn. To his shock each cat blinked at him. This was the right decision, he knew it.

🎇

Minho was restless with excitement. After a rocky start where he has been overwhelmed by the sheer size of the city he now lived in, he had eventually settled in, making a good friend in his roommate, Changbin, and some of the people on his dance course (which he loved). But now he was finally heading home for the first time in months and he was impatient to arrive. He watched as the city slowly bled into farmland, and then open fields, before he finally saw the mountains that watched over his hometown appear in the distance. Hours later when the fields eventually became forest he knew he was almost home, a feeling only intensified when the sun broke through the clouds bathing everything in the pale golden winter light. He was sad he had missed the blazing autumn foliage, but he still thought it was beautiful.

The conductor announced that the train would arrive at his stop in the next few minutes and he busied himself collecting the assorted detritus only a long and boring train journey could produce, before reaching his small suitcase down from the overhead rack. He cracked his back and yawned, wondering if his parents would be there to collect him; neither had seen his message with his arrival time, although since they weren’t they best texters he wasn’t unduly worried.

He did begin to worry slightly as he made his way out of the small station, feet crunching through the snow; he hoped they wouldn’t be too late, it was cold and he really didn’t want to waste money on a taxi-sled. He fished his phone out of his pocket with clumsy mittened fingers, almost dropping it when a car horn punctured the snow-deadened calm.

“I’m sorry I’m late! I couldn’t find the anti-ice charm for the tyres and then one of the dog sleds got snarled up on the main street,” a figure flung himself out of the car, completely swaddled in layers upon layers of clothes, and hurled himself at Minho to pull him into a firm hug.

“Jisung?” Minho returned the embrace dazedly. “When did you pass your test?”

“Oh, uh, literally last week. But you’ll be perfectly safe, I swear,” he replied into Minho’s shoulder, distracted. “Minho! I’ve missed you!”

“I’ve missed you too. So much.” Minho pulled back to look at his friend, sparkling eyes taking in every feature. Jisung’s distinctive heart-shaped smile and round cheeks were almost painfully familiar, but there was an unreadable emotion in his big eyes; and some blond hair peeked out from under his hat. Wait, blond?

“Jisung, you dyed your hair? Let me see!” He reached up to tug the hat off, but Jisung slapped his hand away.

“No! It’s too cold! You’ll have to wait,” he whined.

Minho huffed in response but gave in, frankly too tired and too cold to argue, and let Jisung usher him into the waiting car. “Fine. Show me later.”

Later actually came as soon as Jisung was distracted putting his seatbelt on and Minho plucked the hat off his head. “Wow, it looks good. I’m surprised,” he teased.

“Hey! I will make you walk if you don’t give me a genuine compliment in the next ten seconds.”

Minho rolled his eyes and settled back into his seat, content as the comfortable rhythm of their banter washed over him, gaze fixed on the warm honey strands.

The next time Minho noticed something different about Jisung he was home for the summer having survived his first full year at university. This time they had set their blanket out under the tree cover at the edge of what they thought of as ‘their’ clearing, desperate for even the slightest relief the shade could offer them from the relentless heat.

“You would really think that living in the shadow of a literal mountain would mean it didn’t get as hot, but no,” complained Jisung, lifting a hand to swipe the hair off his damp forehead. “This is disgusting. Inhuman. Weather this hot should be illegal.”

Minho’s eyes settled on the sliver of skin exposed when Jisung lifted his hand, his eyes narrowing. “Are those abs? Have you been working out!” He shrieked, poking at the area in question violently. “Oh my god, they are! You have. No! Stop!” He flailed as Jisung retaliated, choking on the words. In the end the heat won and they lay limp and horribly sweaty on the blanket, Minho’s heart beating unevenly in his chest. Heatstroke, he thought to himself, that had to be it, as the scent of honeysuckle filled the air.

They filled another year like this, emptiness and fondness and longing the backdrop to their lives, until finally, finally, Jisung got the news they had both been desperately hoping for; and Minho would no longer have to board the train alone when he returned to university.

🎇

Now that he had decided to take action Jisung was filled with a strong sense of urgency and he hurried down the neatly cleared streets towards Changbin’s house. Whilst he appreciated the city magic that kept the pavements free of snow, he had never understood why the channels were so narrow, and he was reminded of this as a family of harried fauns rushed past, their scarves flapping behind them and parcels tucked securely under their arms. He peeled himself off the wall and was dusting himself down when a splash of colour on the street opposite caught his eye. Before he had even made a conscious decision he heard the bell over the door chime as he stepped inside a cheerfully haphazard flower shop.

The florist looked up as he entered and something like recognition flashed across his face. But that was impossible because Jisung was sure he had never been in this shop before, in fact he was certain this shop hadn’t even been here yesterday when he had passed by in the process of dragging himself miserably to classes. (Which is where he should be now if he wanted to actually pass his final year, but he was suffering from the worst bout of creative block ever, not even able to write morose songs about heartbreak. At least his internship bosses had been understanding, telling him to take as much time as he needed.)  
He was acutely aware that he stumbled into this shop with absolutely no intention of buying anything and was already calculating the length of time he would have to look around before he could comfortably leave without looking rude, when the florist spoke.

“What have you lost? Or I suppose I should ask who you have lost.”

Jisung gaped. “What? How did you know?”

“Only those who have lost something but have hope when all seems lost visit my shop.”

Jisung felt a chill run down his spine. He knew this shop hadn’t been here yesterday.

The florist sighed. “Pick a flower.” When Jisung made no move to start looking he narrowed his eyes. “You need to pick a flower or I won’t be able to help you.”

He forced his feet to move at that and began browsing the overflowing shelves and water-filled buckets, the choice of flowers almost endless. His hands briefly hovered over a cloud of gypsophila, and he lingered over the pink and red carnations, before eventually settling on a single red rose in full bloom. He turned towards the florist who had been watching him closely, a question in his eyes.

“He is not lost to you yet, but you must hurry and continue with your journey. You will find what you need along the way.” With that, the florist shoved Jisung out of the door, bell chiming above them. He turned, full of questions yet unable to form any of them, but the door was firmly shut and he could only watch as the florist shook snow flakes from his silver hair.

🎇

Minho had been practically vibrating with nerves and excitement in the run up to the dance department showcase that he and all his course mates would be performing in. He always felt like this until he was actually on stage and nothing else but performing mattered, but he was surprised by the intensity of his feelings this time. Hyunjin and Felix had also noticed that something was different with him and they would not stop bothering him at rehearsals until he accidentally let slip that he was nervous about Jisung seeing him dance. After that they were only worse. They were first year students like Jisung and he normally got along well with them but if they didn’t knock it off after the performance was over he had plans involving wet tissue that Hyunjin would not enjoy. He couldn’t punish Felix, he was the embodiment of sunshine, so Hyunjin would have to suffer for the both of them.

Having Jisung at the same university, his dorm only a five-minute walk from Minho’s own, had so far been everything he could have hoped for. They spent what he knew some of his other friends thought was a ridiculous amount of time together, meeting for coffee and lunch whenever they were on campus at the same time, studying together in the library, and dedicating Sundays entirely to hanging out with no coursework to get in the way. Whilst in many ways nothing had changed between them, the banter and affection between the two as intense as ever, Minho couldn’t deny those fleeting moments where he longed for more. Those moments where the sun hit Jisung just right and his eyes softened to a warm caramel and Minho’s heart fluttered in his chest. Or the time Jisung came over to his and Changbin’s dorm with his hair a dark midnight blue and Minho forgot how to breathe. Or when Jisung shyly presented him with a song written just for him to dance to and he almost cried his heart was so full. Sometimes he thought he could sense Jisung looking at him with a similar intensity, but he always forced himself to dismiss it, unwilling to even acknowledge the possibility for fear of ruining everything.

“Minho! Stop thinking about Jisung and finish your makeup, your solo piece is in, like, five minutes and the director will murder you if you’re not ready.”

Hyunjin’s voice pulled him from what were indeed thoughts of Jisung, and he was horrified to feel the tips of his ears reddening.

“Shut up, brat,” he huffed to cover his embarrassment, “you’d better watch out later.”

“You’d better watch out,” mocked Hyunjin, before wincing as Felix elbowed him in warning.

Minho gave his reflection a final once over in the dressing room mirror before standing and heading out towards the director’s backstage command post.

“Good luck,” called Felix’s deep voice behind him. “Jisung’s seat is near the front on the left!” Minho wondered if his ears would actually catch fire they were now so hot.

As soon as he stepped onto the stage though, his mind went blissfully quiet, focussed only on Jisung’s song and the way his body moved through the music until you couldn’t separate beat from step, lyric from gesture. This was it, what he had been made to do, and he was filled with pure joy.

He was in the dressing room again, touching up his makeup and ignoring Hyunjin and Felix teasing him about wanting to look pretty for dinner with your Jisung, when the boy in question frantically charged in.

“Minho! That was – I’ve never – that was amazing, you dance so well,” he finally managed to stutter out, looking absolutely stunned. “I think, well actually, no, I know I,” he took a deep breath, “I just need to tell you something. I love you. I am in love with you, I have been for years I think. I love you.” He looked at Minho, visibly becoming more uncomfortable the longer he stood there and gaped at him.

Minho could hear his ears ringing, hope and panic at war inside him.

“I’m sorry Jisung,” he watched as his eyes filled with tears, hating himself. But it was for the best. “You, you don’t love me. You can’t. You don’t mean it, you don’t know what you’re saying. I’m so sorry.” He practically saw Jisung’s heart break before he spun and left, taking what was left of Minho’s heart with him.

“What the fuck. What the actual fuck, Minho.” He had never heard Felix so angry. “You are completely and hopelessly in love with him, but you just fucking rejected him when he confessed. What the fuck?” Minho could do nothing but collapse into a chair, knees too weak to support his weight anymore. He could hear Hyunjin murmuring something to Felix, who left the room muttering darkly to himself.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said, Hyunjin settling into a chair next to him. “But it’s never affected him before and I panicked.”

“What’s never affected him before?”

Minho squinted at Hyunjin in confusion. “You know, the, uh, the lure thing. Enthrallment.” To his surprise and irritation Hyunjin started laughing at this.

“No, Minho, oh no,” Hyunjin choked out, before looking at him kindly. “You’re only a quarter siren, right? There’s no way you could have lured or compelled another person.”

Minho blinked at him in mute desperation, silently begging him to go on.

“If I had to guess, I’d say your siren abilities are limited to your weird affinity with cats. You’re, like, a next-level cat whisperer, but you’d never be able to use your _extremely limited_ power on Jisung.”

“What? Cats? Jisung?” Minho is starting to feel like a broken record. “But I thought, you know, when I dance…” Hyunjin laughed at him again.

“You are an absolute idiot. Your stage presence is just stage presence. It’s all you and your dancing and your untouchable visuals. Or, I guess, your averagely attractive face. Whatever, I wouldn’t know.”

“Fuck.” Minho dragged him hands through his hair, despair churning in the pit of his stomach. Jisung had confessed and it had been real. Minho had rejected him. This was definitely the worst day of his life, and he was going to yell at his parents later for being so overprotective and secretive about his heritage.

“Also-“

“Oh god, what now?” he groaned.

“ _Also_ , didn’t you know that medical magic is really advanced these days and siren abilities can be completely repressed so we can live normal, safe lives. Like, where did you grow up? In the mountains? Which means, by the way, that I didn’t compel you to be my friend. You just like me,” the last part was delivered in an infuriating sing-song voice.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Hyunjin dropped his voice back to its normal pitch, “why are you still here? Go after him. Tell him you love him too, if only so Felix and I don’t have to watch you two pining over each other constantly. It’s pathetic.”

Minho stood abruptly, chair clattering to the floor behind him, and turned to Hyunjin, smiling softly, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now go!”

🎇

The florist’s warning that he needed to hurry was still running through Jisung’s mind as he battled his way through the newly arrived snowstorm, but he could barely see his feet beneath him and he was freezing, having left his gloves, hat and scarf in his cat-triggered rush. He sought shelter under a shop awning and realised with relief that he was only a few steps away from Felix and Hyunjin’s apartment building.

Five minutes later they were ushering him inside, fussing over him and delighted he was okay after hearing nothing from him since Minho had left the note. He recounted his peculiar morning as he nibbled on one of Felix’s signature brownies and Hyunjin boiled the kettle, soothed by the familiar domesticity of his best friends.

“Actually, Jisung,” Hyunjin began, “Minho did mention that something weird was going on at work, but then he never replied to my messages when I asked what was wrong. I just have a feeling that you need to be careful. I don’t know for certain, but,” he cut himself off and shook his head, as if to clear his thoughts. Felix laid a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“I know you’re worried because you argued before you went home for winter break, but he wouldn’t have left you. I’m not sure he even could, your souls are too tightly intertwined,” said Felix with a soft smile.

Jisung was so relieved and grateful for his friends in that moment that he relaxed slightly for the first time in weeks. So he shot up from the sofa with an undignified high-pitched shriek when there was a rapping sound on the window. All three turned to look and saw a crow regarding them intently. It opened its beak in a muted caw, before taking flight in a ruffle of silver feathers.

“It’s stopped snowing,” Hyunjin broke the silence. “I think you can carry on to Changbin’s safely now. And tell him to give me my blue hoody back, he’s been ignoring every message I send about it for months now.”

“Not the time, Hyunjin,” said Felix, voice muffled as he rummaged through a pile of colourful wool. He thrust an assortment at Jisung, “you can’t go out like that again – you’ll freeze. How you found the time to pin a sprig of white heather to your coat,” Jisung looked down in disbelief, “but you couldn’t remember any of your thousand hats, I do not understand.” He fussed with the scarf he was winding around Jisung’s neck.

“Bring him back,” Hyunjin said quietly and Felix looked over in understanding at something Jisung knew he didn’t yet.

Now appropriately bundled up, Jisung ventured into the fresh snow to continue his journey.

🎇

“Jisung! Wait, please! Let me explain. Please.” Minho was desperate as he finally caught up to Jisung, who had made it much further than he thought he would have. He turned around abruptly, face flat and unyielding.

“It’s okay Minho. We can go back to being friends. I just need some time first, okay?” He continued on.

No, this was not going the way Minho wanted it to.

“I don’t want to be friends anymore,” Jisung looked shocked at this, blank expression crumpling slightly. “Oh, fuck, no, that’s not what I meant.” Minho panicked, “I mean, I- I like you too. I love you Jisung.” To his horror Jisung looked unconvinced.

“Look, it’s okay. You don’t have to do this-“

“Yes, yes I do! I love you, I mean it, I can’t not,” he winced as he unwittingly echoed his earlier words when he had rejected Jisung. He took a shaky breath as panic clawed at his throat. “I’m a quarter siren,” he blurted out, “the reason I reacted that way was because I thought you’d been caught in my lure, or whatever.” He couldn’t read Jisung’s carefully neutral expression, so he kept going frantically. “Hyunjin swears – he’s a full siren, but he uses medical magic to repress everything, which is apparently a thing now and also, god, not that relevant – he swears that I don’t have enough power to compel people, only cats, and I was so scared that you didn’t mean it, and I really really wanted you to, because I do too. Love you. I love you.” He eventually stopped and the silence stretched on, unbearable. Minho’s heart sank, and he turned to leave, world threatening to slip off its axis.

“Wait,” a quiet voice broke the tension, and he felt a hand slip into his, Jisung threading their fingers together as he pulled Minho back towards him. “Say it again.” A smile was taking over the blank expression on Jisung’s face now.

“I love you,” repeated Minho softly.

“I love you too,” Jisung’s face was now completely transported by his full heart-shaped smile.

Relief rushed through Minho in a dizzying wave, and he couldn’t move as Jisung stepped even closer. His eyes dropped from Jisung’s own to his lips almost unbidden, and he released the hand he was holding to wrap both around Jisung’s waist, as the other boy brought his up to Minho’s neck. He looked down again as Jisung licked his lips and he thought he might combust if he didn’t kiss him soon.

“Can I kiss you,” he murmured into the scant space between them.

Jisung tilted his head up, “please.”

Minho closed the gap between them, brushing his lips against Jisung’s in a tentative motion, before slotting them together fully. One of Jisung’s hands slipped into the hair at the nape of his neck and tugged at the same time as he swiped his tongue across the seam of his lips, deepening the kiss. Minho nipped gently at Jisung’s bottom lip and licked into his mouth as he gasped, pulling him flush to his own body. He felt something in his soul settle before he was swept away by the warmth of Jisung’s tongue against his.

🎇

He had finally made it to Changbin’s apartment and had explained everything that had happened for the second time that day. Now Jisung watched as Changbin chewed on his lower lip thoughtfully.

“I’m the most junior member of the theft squad.” He was thinking out loud now. “But we all receive the reports about dangerous beings that the tracking and monitoring department put together. From what Hyunjin said – and he’s not getting his hoody back, it’s mine now – it could be something like that.”

Jisung watched carefully as Changbin started to pace, trying not to get his hopes up too much.

“One of my neighbours is a musician,” now Jisung was slightly confused, “and he has a brother who studies in the mythological creature department at the other uni. He’s staying here at the moment. I think we should talk to him. Seungmin.” Changbin cleared his throat. “His name is Seungmin.”

Mythological research. Right. That made sense if Hyunjin’s vague warning and the police report were related. Although it didn’t explain why Changbin seemed to be blushing slightly.

They made the short trek down the hallway to his neighbour’s apartment, which swung open when they got there. Astute eyes in a puppy-like face stared back at them, before he smiled slightly in welcome and stepped back to let them in.

“I was expecting you,” he said, gesturing to them to wait as he began lacing his boots.

Jisung and Changbin shared a look of pure confusion.

“How?”

“Why?”

They spoke at the same time.

“Just had a feeling.” Now he was pulling on a warm coat. “We’ve been doing a module on Snow Queens, and I recognise the, ah, the atmosphere that’s been lingering in the city this winter,” he finished delicately.

He opened the door and motioned to them to hurry up. “There’s no time to waste, we need to reach my friend before sundown.” Another faint smile graced his face, and that was definitely a blush on Changbin’s face as they followed after him. If he wasn’t so worried about Minho, Jisung would have thought of a dozen ways to embarrass him in front of his apparent crush by now. As it was, he contented himself with a greasy smirk, before he was distracted by a dove swooping into their path, white feathers gleaming silver in the light.

🎇

Minho laughed as Jisung spluttered at the flour he had just flicked at him, but it quickly turned into a cough of horror as he himself was attacked. Soonie swiftly removed himself from the room, and climbed to the very top of his cat tree, unpleasant memories of the previous flour fight chasing him.

“Stop it! We have, like, two hours before we need to be at the Hyunlix apartment, and we promised Hyunjin we’d bake Felix a nice cake, since he’s always baking for everyone else.”

Minho screwed his face up in disgust. “Did you just say Hyunlix?”

“Uh, yeah, it’s quicker.”

“That’s – fine, whatever.”

They worked in unison in their kitchen (Minho’s heart still did something funny whenever he thought about their shared apartment, even though they’d been living together for almost a year after Jisung had declared that the dorms sucked, and they might as well find somewhere together now that Minho had graduated) following the recipe closely until the batter was ready to go in the oven.

Despite his earlier words, as soon as he closed the oven door on the cake, Minho saw Jisung inching towards the bag of flour.

“Don’t you dare! We do not have time for this, we need to get changed,” he said, pushing the flour out of reach and pinning Jisung against the counter to be sure.

He felt his ears heat up slightly as Jisung smirked at him and trailed his hands up his sides, before resting them lightly on his chest, dumbfounded as always that such a small gesture still had this effect on him.

Jisung leaned up, taunting, “are you sure?” He peppered kisses across Minho's face.

Minho’s brain short-circuited and he lifter a hand to Jisung’s jaw so he could tilt his head and connect their lips, eyes fluttering closed. He deepened the kiss immediately, slipping his tongue into Jisung’s mouth, who bunched the material of his shirt in his fists and moaned into his mouth. Reluctantly Minho pulled away, feeling slightly smug as he caught Jisung chasing his lips.

“We really don’t have time for this now,” his voice was uneven, “but we literally live together, so…” He couldn’t stop himself from pressing another quick kiss against Jisung’s lips.

He smiled, and Minho thought he looked beautiful, face flushed and eyes sparkling. His lips grazed Minho’s ear, and he shivered as Jisung whispered, “later,” before leaving a kiss at the corner of Minho’s mouth and unceremoniously shoving him aside, yelling “I get the first shower – do not let that cake burn!”

Minho could do nothing but smile fondly and wonder at how happy he was.

🎇

Seungmin had wasted no time in flagging down a taxi-sleigh, this one pulled by a group of brown-coated reindeer, saying only that Jisung needed to talk to one of his friends and the sooner the better. Which was why Jisung and Changbin were both a little bewildered when they stopped on front of a cosy looking café.

From the corner of his eye Jisung could see Changbin trying to sound the name of the cafe (Kakkukahvi) out under his breath as he turned to Seungmin in silent question.

“My friend owns this café,” he replied simply, pushing the door open and yanking Changbin behind him when he made no move to follow.

“Hello, welcome to my café,” a man greeted them and led them over to a table for four with a selection of coffees and cakes already laid out. “My name's Chan. I understand that someone has been taken from you, and you intend to get them back?”

Jisung could only nod, no longer surprised that another person already knew why he was there.

Chan smiled reassuringly, dimples making him look much younger and less intimidating. “I am not going to pretend it will be easy. The Snow Queen,” Jisung could hear the capital letters, “has been stealing people from their joy for centuries and she delights in breaking hearts. She is an enormously powerful siren, although her power is tied directly to frozen water only, so she at least is confined to where she can wreak her havoc. Normally, even she would struggle to separate-” he cut himself off abruptly. “That is to say, my companion tells me that matters may be complicated by the involvement of a piece of mirror. Only the tiniest speck, but it was enough for her magic to find something to exploit.”

Changbin looked utterly lost at this, but Seungmin was unfazed, and Jisung could feel something tugging at the back of his memory before Chan was talking again and it was gone.

“Can I get him back? What can I do? I’ll do anything, there has to be something.” Jisung knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. He could tell Chan was mulling something over and he had to physically restrain himself from yelling that they needed to hurry, a terrible sense of foreboding washing over him. Finally, Chan looked up from his contemplation.

“Many people have tried to rescue others from the Snow Queen, but very few have succeeded. I tell you this not to discourage you, but to warn you. There is an even older and more powerful magic than that which the Snow Queen wields. If you can use that you may be able to release him from her spell. The mirror magic too, if you are lucky.”

“But Jisung’s human, he can’t do magic,” Changbin said, reflecting some of Jisung’s desperation in his worry for both his friends. Seungmin shifted his hand closer until their pinkies were touching and Changbin blushed for at least the third time that day.

“Soulmates.” Jisung had been thinking over the information Chan had shared and had felt a deep and unyielding certainty spreading through him. He could feel his heart calling for something far away, an unending song that wouldn’t be quiet until he found Minho and could hold him again. “We’re soulmates, aren’t we? Where do I need to go?”

🎇

Minho had been working at this studio for close to a year now, and he was still filled with excitement every day. He was close with some of his colleagues, Yugyeom and Momo most notably, and those he wasn’t close with he still got along with. The studio owner and his boss, Seulgi, was talented and generous, even taking an interest in Jisung’s music after she had found Minho choreographing a personal piece one evening. She had said that she would put her friends, Irene and Sunmi (who owned a small label together) in touch with him and they had contacted Jisung the very next day, eventually offering an internship as he was his final year, and a possible job after that.

He smiled to himself as he headed home, mood light and carefree, although it fell slightly when he saw the snowstorm raging. He loved the first snow, when he and Jisung would go and play as they had done every winter for many years now, with the added bonus that they would now kiss each other senseless afterwards, but he was less keen on the violent swirling flakes that meant you had to squint. He wondered why no one had invented snow goggles, before remembering that skiing was a thing people did regularly and they did exist. Perhaps he should buy some. He might look ridiculous, but then he wouldn’t have these infuriating frozen shards stabbing him in the eyeball.

A week later and Minho had never felt more fatigued. His eye still itched and he was becoming irritable, even snapping at the Chae sisters, who were objectively lovely and didn’t deserve it at all. He could feel himself becoming resentful and angry but was powerless to stop it, although he did his best to hide it from Jisung, who was trying to survive his final year and find time for his internship. He didn’t want him to worry or do something stupid, like skip classes to look after him.

When Seulgi told him that they had taken on a demanding new client, who asked for “the most passionate and dedicated dancer we have,” he almost growled and ignored the praise. It was made worse by the fact that he absolutely hated this woman. She wanted the piece doing before the end of the year but kept rejecting ideas. She was sucking the joy out of everything he normally loved about his job, but for some reason he couldn’t stop, even agreeing to work through the winter holiday.

He was sure it had been days since he’d been home, and he was now beyond tired. There was no room for anything in his mind but the sound of her voice telling him the choreography wasn’t good enough, that he wasn’t good enough. That it was foolish of him to think he could be successful, and wouldn’t it be better to give up on his happiness and fade into obscurity and dullness? He tried so hard to ignore her, to chase the thoughts from his mind, but she pinned him in place with cold grey eyes, and everything went black.

He wasn’t even cold; he was just empty. That was how he felt, when he bothered to think about it, which wasn’t often, the impossible question carved into the ice in front of him capturing his every bit of focus. He had the vague sensation that time was running out, but for what he neither knew nor cared. The only thing keeping him from succumbing was a tiny grain of sunshine, buried so deep in his heart that he sometimes wondered if he’d imagined it. Occasionally he wished he had, thinking bitterly that it would be so easy to give up if it wasn’t there, but nevertheless it echoed faintly in his pulse, warming his soul even as his veins filled with ice.

🎇

Jisung had no idea how long he had been trekking through this forest alone, the only indicator of passing time were the occasional slivers of sky visible through the canopy that turned a darker grey the further he walked.

After his assertion that he and Minho were soulmates (which almost had Changbin crying in happiness) Chan had lifted an elaborate tapestry depicting a pine forest from the wall and urged him to step through the hidden doorway. Somehow, he had stepped from a cosy coffee shop in the centre of the city into a snow-silent pine forest. It was exceptionally disconcerting, but he kept going, something telling him that he could trust Chan.

His feet were starting to ache, and the sky was now almost fully dark, and Jisung was close to panic. The forest was becoming more eerie the deeper he went, and he hadn’t heard a single bird. Fear crawled up his throat and he stumbled onwards, tripping over tree roots that were barely visible. He almost sobbed with relief when the pine trees abruptly gave way to an ice sheet, a castle that looked to be made of the ice itself visible in the middle distance.

He hurried on, now slipping on the ice sheet instead of tripping over roots, but he soon flung himself through the grand doors (definitely made of ice) and began skidding from room to room, urgently searching for Minho.

He found himself in a room that he instinctively knew was the ballroom, and his heart leapt as he saw a familiar brunet figure in the very centre of the dancefloor. His relief was short-lived when Minho stared at him, not even a flicker of recognition in his now dull eyes. It was the complete absence of the stars he would normally find there every time he looked at Minho that pushed him into the panic he had been fighting all day.

“Minho, please, please come back to me,” he begged, cradling his face. Nothing changed. “No, please, you have to come back to me. You’re my soulmate, I don’t want to be without you.”

“This is a fairy tale. You know what to do,” an oddly familiar voice startled Jisung from his tears, and he whipped around in time to see the tip of a bushy silver tale vanish from sight.

“A fairy tale, a fairy tale, what do I do,” he chanted, “we’re soulmates, what do I – oh. That simple?”

He readjusted his grip on Minho’s jaw before tilting his own face up and kissing him. Minho stood frozen for a moment, like an ice statue, but then – then Jisung felt him melt against him as if seeking the warmth and he broke the kiss just to gasp Jisung’s name. He watched as Minho began to cry when his memories returned and he sobbed that he remembered leaving Jisung, who only kissed him again and told him he was forgiven. Minho pulled him impossibly closer, mouth ghosting over Jisung’s lips with the barest of pressure, as he began to sway them from side-to-side in a gentle dance. Jisung closed his eyes and began to hum in contentment as he felt the warmth return to Minho’s skin.

The moment was broken when Jisung slipped, but he looked up to see Minho’s eyes shining as he laughed. As their shared laughter rang through the ballroom, something in the air shifted. A look of wordless understanding passed between them, and Jisung took Minho’s hand as they began to run, helping each other maintain their balance. As they escaped through the front entrance a loud crack reverberated through the strange silence.

If they had been able to see into the ballroom, they would have seen a large crack splitting the impossible puzzle that had been carved into the ice where Minho stood, destroying the spell.

🎇

His three visitors, plus the rescued and newly dark-magic free Minho had long since left Chan’s café, but he still sat staring at the tapestry as if waiting for someone else. His patience was rewarded when the lower edge began to twitch as if something was trapped, before an irritated silver fox fought his way past the heavy length of fabric.

“Do you not think that just once you could lift the corner for me, instead of sitting there watching.”

Chan smiled, before scooping the silver fox up in his arms, who promptly transformed into his silver-haired human form just to be difficult.

“Welcome home baby fox. And well done, it worked. We saved one.”

“I’m older than you, don’t call me baby,” he said as he snuggled deeper into Chan’s embrace.

“Whatever you say Jeongin.”

🎇

Jisung and Minho were lounging in their apartment, a comfortable silence disturbed only by faint noises from the street below, watching their cats bask in the bright sunshine. Minho turned his head and caught Jisung looking at him fondly, his golden skin contrasted against the fierce blue of the sky beyond the window. His breath caught, and he was overwhelmed with the need to tell him how much he loved him. So he did. Jisung grinned (heart shaped as always) and leaned closer to whisper against Minho’s lips, “I love you too. Welcome home.” Minho sighed into the kiss, and their hearts were once again content and secure.

**Author's Note:**

> This would probably be better if I hadn't written it in only four non-consecutive days, but I treat procrastination like it's an Olympic sport. Also, I'm English but apparently I don't know what tenses are. Hopefully I ironed it out and it reads well?  
> =^._.^= ∫


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